So Many Needed Prayers

 

How do I begin? And once I begin, how do I come to an "Amen"?

The need for prayers is unending. Has it always been this way? Yes, of course, it has. The world and all its people have always needed the kind of holding, the kind of attention and awareness, the kind of connection and conversation that prayer creates. 

But today, right now, is what I carry with me into prayer time--the time set aside for prayer and then the almost unconscious time for prayer that I wear like a sweater on these cool days. 

At this very minute I hear a siren--first, quite faint, and then more distinct--and I whisper, "May all be well." My first intentional prayer of the day, but I know more will follow. 

When I am not too overwhelmed by worries and concerns--big ones and little ones--I try to enter prayer with gratitude. Oh, yes the usual ones of gratitude for the health and the well-being of my family, for our home and church and community and the love of good friends, but I also try to note particular joys and delights, the unwrapped presents I've received.

An email from a church friend sharing the delights in her life.

A drive in our little car along the river--color in the bluffs, eagles in the sky, sailboats on the river, friends and conversation and pie in an outdoor setting.

Pumpkins. More pumpkins. Pumpkins on the patio. Pumpkins in "Paris."

Applesauce for dinner.

Reading time on the patio, wrapped in a shawl.

Completion finally of the draft for a new chapter.

A leisurely walk in the neighborhood. "Look, the witches are holding hands," I hear two little girls exclaim, and I think, "Why don't we all hold hands?"

A new flannel shirt.

A good annual physical with a doctor new to me, and I am relieved to really like her.

Roses still blooming in the garden.

And then I turn to what is on my heart. Who am I holding? What transformation is needed around and within me? Where is there hurt, fear, a lack of hope and what words, what actions can I offer?

I know some of what I pray is on your lips as well--prayers for our country and for the upcoming election, prayers for the homeless, for the food insecure, prayers for all those who are oppressed, who need justice. 

A big list. A long list. An important list.

And then I turn to the specific on my heart: the friend undergoing chemotherapy for a serious cancer; our daughter-in-love's father awaiting a liver transplant, our granddaughter as she faces college applications, the two detained immigrants and the healthcare workers on the front lines who I write to weekly, friends who are grieving the loss of their only son, and many others. 

A big list. A long list. An important list.

And then I return to the joys, the delights, the list of gratitudes that grows when I pay attention: this quiet time, the comfort of the Girlfriend Chair, the sound of Bruce fixing his breakfast and opening the door to get the paper, the fresh air coming through a barely open skylight, the journal almost completed, but another one awaits. And the openness of the day. Yes, tasks to do, but on my own time, my own schedule. More delights to discover. 

Amen.

An Invitation
What brings you to prayer? What do you pray for? I would love to know.

Some Recommendations from Last Week

1.   Gloria Dei Lutheran Church This is actually on ongoing recommendation. Our Sunday online worship services are amazing--the sermons, the music, the creativity, the personal connection, and you are invited. Perhaps you are unchurched and feeling a need to experience worship again. Perhaps you are committed to a faith community and will remain so, but your church doesn't have the ability to produce a well-done online worship time. Or perhaps as a reader of my blog who is Jewish said to me, "It is clear how important your church is to you, and I am just curious about it." Come. 

2.    Podcast: The Confessional with Nadia Bolz-Weber, specifically the September 22 episode with journalist Maria Hinojosa.

3.    An article in The Atlantic on the definition of reparations. :  https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2019/06/reparations-definition-2020-candidates/590863/.

Praying My Way to November 3

 

My morning meditation and prayer time has expanded. I sit in my comfortable Girlfriend Chair longer and longer and then extend that prayer time as I walk or do all the other routine tasks of the day. 

Morning meditation and prayer becomes evening meditation and prayer. 

And then there is another day--another day closer to election day.

My daily attempt is to stay calm.

                 Jesus spoke...and there was a great calm.
                                           Luke 8: 24

Sometimes it helps to have someone else's words as a guide, and I thank dear friend Jim Borgschatz for writing these words.

    In the place of fear, we cannot see God's Presence
   With ill will or hatred, we do not know the peace of God
   In the midst of accusation and defense, our awareness of God is cut

         off.
    Listening to the endless flow of opinion overshadows the still small 

         voice of God.
    Though God speaks, angry noise and conscious deceit blocks our

         ears.
    When we have no love, nor live in its intention, we've turned away

         from God's creativity.
    Put all that aside and let God be God within and around and always. 

                                                                            

Here's how I am using Jim's words. I say each line aloud or to myself and then, breathing in an out slowly, finding my own rhythm, I repeat a key phrase in the line. I rest in those words, allowing them to move into my heart, to become part of my being in that moment, and to extend into the universe. 

   In the place of fear, we cannot see God's Presence

                            God's Presence
   

   With ill will or hatred, we do not know the peace of God.

                            The peace of God
   

    In the midst of accusation and defense, our awareness of God is cut

         off.

                            Awareness of God

    Listening to the endless flow of opinion overshadows the still small 

         voice of God.

                            The still small voice of God

    Though God speaks, angry noise and conscious deceit blocks our

         ears.

                            God speaks

    When we have no love, nor live in its intention, we've turned away

         from God's creativity.

                            God's creativity

    Put all that aside and let God be God within and around and always. 

                            Let God be God.

                            Always. All ways. 

Throughout the day one or more of these phrases resonates with me, calls to me. Hearing the bells ring on each quarter hour from the chapel on the University of St Thomas campus, I whisper, "God's creativity" or "God speaks." When I receive an email from a friend, I think, "God's presence." When I watch the PBS News Hour at 6:00, I remind myself, "Let God be God," and when I close the book I am reading, turn out the light, and close my eyes, I pray, "The peace of God."

Are words enough? No, of course not, but I pray the words will  support and guide me towards right action and will strengthen a life force of love.

An Invitation

What words are in your heart and on your lips these days? I would love to know.

Some Recommendations from the Past Week

1.    Podcast:Unlocking Us with Bene Brown --two recent episodes. September 23, "On My Mind. RBG, Surge Capacity  and Play as an Energy Source." and September 16, " Sonya Renee Taylor on "The Body is Not an Apology."

2.    I've recommended Diane Butler's Bass's blog The Cottage before. This week I really appreciated her idea to think of the days leading up to the election as a Lenten practice. 

3.    Podcast: If you are Louise Penny fans and eagerly await each new Three Pines mystery, you will enjoy hearing her on the Club Book, Minnesota's Coolest Book Club podcast. The talk was way back on September 4, 2014, and my friend Becky and I were in the audience. I loved listening to it again. I loved Penny's most recent book, by the way--All The Devils Are Here, set in Paris. 

Early Morning Prayer: Thursday's Reflection

In the early morning light before I ease out of bed and into my slippers, I give thanks for a good night's sleep and for waking to a new day. 

I gather my thoughts for the day.

What will be the topic for my next blog post?
How much writing time do I have today?
Is it going to rain again today?
When should I go on my daily walk?
And even, do I need to wash my hair this morning?

I review the previous day.

The afternoon with my writing group and the help they offered as I begin working on a new section of my memoir. Once again, we talked about how to maintain focus. 
The evening with other writers and our conversation about what we learn as we work on a long project, including the discovery of patterns in our lives and the growth of compassion towards ourselves and others.
The French Onion Soup that simmered in a slow cooker all day and tasted delicious. Leftovers tonight! 

And then I lift the names of those on my heart; those in need of prayers.
A friend who is being stretched by all her caregiving responsibilities.
Another friend who is struggling with health issues and growing older.
A couple who are bravely addressing other health issues.
A nephew as he relocates and a niece as she begins a new job.
The spiritual directees who come for monthly sessions this week.
Government officials who resist doing the right thing.
My loved ones as they move through this day.

Well, this list goes on and on and I could spend the day in bed praying. I hope if/when the day comes that I am bed bound or limited in my activities and movements, that I will remember to spend my day in prayer. But for now, even though the advent of morning light appears later and later as we move into October, it is time to rise and, I hope, shine. 
                                  
                  Dear God,
                  I give this day to You.
                  May my mind stay centered on the things of spirit.
                  May I not be tempted to stray from love.
                  As I begin this day, I open to receive You.
                                         from "Morning Prayer"
                                         Illuminata, A Return to Prayer
                                         Marianne Williamson 

An Invitation
What are your first thoughts of the day? I would love to know. 

Pray in the Shower: Thursday's Reflection

Pray all day.

Pray in all places. 

Pray all ways. 

Today my best prayer time was in the shower. I always give thanks for the gift of a shower--the steady stream of clean water, the temperature I regulate, the feeling of being squeaky clean from head to toes. I try not to focus on the sags, the wrinkles and spots--that's enough detail--but instead to give thanks for a body that has served me well and continues to support the life I most want to have. 

This morning, however, as the water cleansed me, I prayed for the cleansing of our nation. I prayed for all those who are in deep sorrow, such unexpected and unnecessary sorrow. I prayed for those who feel lost or unknown or powerless or alone. I prayed for those who feel driven and convinced of one way being the only way, one thought being the only thought. I prayed that new responses may be found. I prayed for open hearts, a change of heart.

I know prayer is not enough, but it is something I can do, even when I am in the shower. 

Today I intend to pray as I climb the stairs to the garret and pause at the landing to look out at the summer garden. I will pray each time I tap the "send" button on my laptop. I will pray when I sort the wash, and if I iron, I will pray then, too. I will pray before I call Mitch McConnell's office, urging him to call back senators to vote on universal background checks (202-224-2541). I will pray when I bring in the mail and when I open the bills. I will pray before my spiritual directee comes and after she leaves. I will pray as I cook the brats and butter the buns for dinner. I will pray as I walk to the snug to read. I will pray as I enter rest. 

Often, my prayers are wordless. How can that be prayer? Well, more and more I think of prayer as a kind of awareness, the way I try to live my days, the rhythm of my days. A way of being present,  not just to myself and my needs, but to the beat of the world around me. How can that not be prayer?

I pray as I write posts for this blog, and that means I pray for each of you who read these posts. 

An Invitation

When do you feel like praying? I would love to know.  

From Mindless to Mindfulness: Thursday's Reflection

I spent the afternoon cutting and pasting.

And praying.

At first, the task seemed mindless. I had decided to put together journals for the guided labyrinth walks I am leading in the next few days. I wrote prompts for each part of the labyrinth and then cut and pasted them into small journals the participants can carry with them as they walk the labyrinth. I started the project the previous day, but hadn't finished it and, I admit, I was a bit frustrated about that.

After all, I had planned to spend the afternoon working on my spiritual memoir, but there I was cutting and pasting and getting my fingers sticky and scraps of paper were drifting to the floor around my desk. What had seemed like a good idea, a creative idea, began to feel more like a chore. 

But somewhere along the way--maybe journal #3, I noticed a change. I started cutting more slowly, more deliberately and less frantically. I started pasting the small slips of paper into the journal in a gentler way, smoothing the paper, almost caressing each page.

I thought about the people who will be walking the labyrinth, wondering what cares or questions or yearnings they will bring with them. I thought about all the feet that have walked the labyrinth we will use and hoped they have found some peace, some insights, some grace along the way.

I thought about the privilege of accompanying others on their journey, about the stories I hear, the hopes and dreams shared, the joys and the sorrows expressed, the depth of seeking for connection, for awareness of the movement of God.

As I completed each journal, I whispered, "Amen." 

After I put away the scissors, the glue stick, the ruler, and cleaned up my work space, space I realized had been an altar for a short period of time, I opened Celtic Treasure by J. Philip Newell to reread the prayer from this morning's devotion time.

                   Open our eyes to see your Spirit in all life.
                   Open our hearts to receive the blessing that
                       is in all created things.
                   Guide us with your wisdom, O God,
                   in the handling of matter,
                   in the sharing of earth's resources
                   and in the knowing of one another,
                   your Spirit within every living spirit.

What had felt mindless to me, had become a time of mindfulness. 

An Invitation
What mindless activities can become a time of prayer in your life? I would love to know. 

A Mystery and Words of Wisdom: Thursday's Reflection

You never know when or where or how you will receive words of

wisdom. Sometimes they even appear in a mystery series.











Recently, I had a crummy cold--mainly, an unrelenting cough--and I spent more than my usual time in the snug reading. I am slowly making my way through Taylor Branch's Parting the Waters, America in the King Years (1954-63) in preparation for a civil rights tour we are taking to Alabama and Mississippi in November. Although LONG, this book is fully absorbing and extremely well-written, but sometimes I needed a break from the documented horrors of that time. 

This would have been the perfect time to read a new Louise Penny mystery, but her next one comes out later this fall. However, waiting patiently on one of my TO BE READ shelves was a mystery by an author unfamiliar to me, Julia Spencer-Fleming. Did someone recommend this series to me? Did I read about it in one of my favorite book blogs, like, The Modern Mrs Darcy or was it mentioned in the independent book stores' monthly newsletter? I don't know, but now I am hooked.

The main characters are a female Episcopalian priest, Clare Fergusson and the chief of police, Russ Van Alstyne. The setting is a small town in Vermont. I gobbled up the first book, In the Bleak Midwinter and dashed to a used bookstore and found the third one, Out of the Deep I Cry, which I loved, too. I have ordered three more because, alas, our library system only has them as audio books. 

Back to the words of wisdom part of this blog. 

In the first book one of the characters asks Clare if she thinks prayer can help and she says, 
              I believe that prayer focuses our human thoughts
              and energies and sends them to the people we're
              praying for. I believe that helps, in ways we can't
              yet understand...I believe that God hears our prayers
              and cherishes them. I believe He answers by sending
              us His spirit, giving us strength, and peace, and 
              insight. I don't think He responds by turning away
              bullets and curing cancer. Though sometimes that
              does happen.

When the other character responds, "In other words, sometimes the answer is no?" Clare adds,

              No. Sometimes the answer is 'This is life, in all
              its variety. Make your way through it with grace, 
              and never forget that I love you.'

Like I said, you never know how you will be offered words of wisdom.

An Invitation
What do you believe about prayer? I would love to know. Oh, and do you have any good mysteries to recommend? I would love to know that, too. 

From Where I Sat: Thursday's Reflection

I settled in at one of the long tables in the shared workspace where I had gone to write. From where I sat I could look out the windows and see the curved entrance to Union Depot. I opened my laptop and easily moved into the day's project, but after a few minutes, needing a moment to think about the next word or phrase, I glanced out the window. 

I saw a man standing in front of a low wall. On the wall looked to be multiple bags, bundles, and items of clothing. I assumed the man is one of the many homeless people in our community. I watched him as he put on another layer of clothing and then took it off. On and off. 

I returned to my work, but I found myself drawn to him, and I stopped my writing frequently to be his silent and unknown observer. People passed by him without interacting. Perhaps he said something to them, but I don't know.

Later in the day I noticed him on a nearby street corner, still visible from my post. He walked back and forth on the sidewalk. Sometimes he seemed to be dancing. Sometimes his motions were like tae kwon do sparring.

My eyes kept returning to him. What is your story?

Then he was gone. After hours of being in the same location, he was gone. Where did he go? Did he go to the Dorothy Day Center for the early evening meal? Did someone pick him up? Did a police officer tell him to move on? 

Throughout the day I said silent prayers for him. Nothing fancy. Just "May you be well." 

And I remembered a friend was praying for me that day. It is her Lenten practice to lift specific names up in prayer each day during Lent. I think because she was praying for me, she was also praying for this anonymous homeless man. Because we are all one.

The next morning during my meditation time I read these words by Thich Nhat Hanh
                   We can sit for those who can't sit, walk for those 
                   who can't walk, and create stillness and peace
                   within us for people who have no stillness or
                   peace. 

That is my prayer, my hope, my goal. 

An Invitation
For whom do you sit? For whom do you walk? How do you create stillness and peace? I would love to know. 

Spirituality as We Age: Thursday's Reflection

I welcome these dark November mornings, for they seem to give me permission to spend even more time in quiet devotion and meditation. I dress and move into the day later and later. In fact, my husband and I have joked that some day we will still be in  our pajamas and it will be time to go to bed again. 

Spending more of my time in prayer and devotion is not just because daylight takes longer to appear, however. Another reason, I think, is that I am drawn to enter what Dr. Jane Marie Thibault calls "Aging as a natural monastery." 

I was reminded of this term when my father, who is 94, and in very good health, outlined his daily spiritual practices to me. Much of his day, even the majority of his day, is spent praying and reading devotional material. Some of the books he uses he has read over and over again, continuing to find meaning in them. Like a monk, he starts his day in prayer; he ends his day in prayer, and in-between he reflects on his relationship with God and what he is still invited to learn. He reads two pages of Luther's Catechism every day. He reads passages in my mother's Bible, passages she underlined, and he says they are reading them together. He reviews and reflects on his day, a form of examen in the spirit of Ignatian spirituality. 

After a long and successful career in the business world, my father's life has shifted from the external to the internal. He has become a contemplative, giving and responding to the world in new ways. 

Many years ago I remember sitting by the bedside of a woman who had been extremely active in her congregation. She was the epitome of a church lady--always ready and willing to meet any need. Everyone knew they could count on her, but now confined to her hospice bed she felt useless. Without purpose or meaning. I asked her about the people she loved and about the issues in the world that concerned her and in the process we realized we were praying. I suggested this could be a time of unceasing prayer for her.  Because of her own faith and her deep love, she opened to that new purpose and spent most of her last days in prayer. 

I have an active life and love the various activities that give my life purpose and meaning, but more and more I feel the pull to sit in silence and open my heart to and for the world. Heaven knows, there is much that needs prayer. 

I suspect I am preparing for my own monastery time --if I should be fortunate to live into old age (older age, that is!). As long as I have cozy pajamas, I will be content. 

An Invitation

What have you noticed about the role of prayer and contemplation in your life? I would love to know. 

Evening Prayers: Thursday's Reflection

What is your energy like in the evening? More and more I find I am not good for much of anything at night? All I want is to get into my pajamas and watch something absorbing on television (Recent favorites include The Great British Baking Show and Home Fires) or curl up in the snuggery and read. I look forward to bedtime in a way I never did before. 

I am a morning person, and I want to do everything in the morning, including my prayer and meditation time. At night as I close my eyes, I whisper a few words of gratitude and blessing, but that is about it. However, if I return to my garret at night I often sit quietly in my comfortable chair and think about the day I have been privileged to live, even when the day has not gone as planned. 

Joyce Rupp in her classic, The Cup of My Life, A Guide for Spiritual Growth suggests the following questions as a way to let go of the day and move towards rest.

1.   How open or aware was I to the presence of God in my day?

2.   What kind of nourishment did I receive? What kind of nourishment did I give?

3.   Does anything need to be emptied out in order for me to be at peace tonight?

4.   For what do I thank God as I prepare to enter into sleep?

When I sit with these questions, I feel my body relax, not just from exhaustion, but because I let go of control and any worry preparing to perch on my pillow. Tomorrow, if I am so blessed, is another day, and I will have the chance to be the aware and nourishing person I truly want to be. 

I whisper a closing prayer and turn out the lights. 

Divine Companion, shelter me under your wings of love. Grant me a peaceful night and a restful sleep. Amen.  

                                                          Joyce Rupp

Two Evening Prayers by Marianne Williamson

Dear God,

Thank You for this day.

Thank You for my safety and the safety of my loved ones.

As I enter sleep, may these hours give me peace.

May they bring healing to my mind and body.

Where there is pain, where there are people who have no place to sleep, who suffer and who die, may Your angels come unto them and minister to their lives.

Dear Lord,

Please let the light stream in.

Please use my hours of sleep.

Please prepare me during these hours of rest for greater service to You.

May the light that surrounds me, tomorrow shine through me.

Soften my heart.

Thank you, Lord.

Amen. 

Dear God,

I surrender to You the day now over.

May only the love remain.

Take all else into the fire of Your transformative power.

Release me, release others, from any wrongdoing.

Dear God,

Return me to Your light.

As I now give to You who I am, what I did, who I loved, who I failed to love, please make all things right.

Take all things.

May I continue to grow in Your light and love.

Tomorrow may I be better.

Amen.  

An Invitation

What is your evening routine? Does it include time to review and bless the day? I would love to know. 

Morning Time: Tuesday Reflections

How do you begin your day? Are you a coffee and the newspaper person? Or do you go for a walk with your dog or on your own as your first  activity of the day? 

As soon as I have made the bed, I head upstairs to my sanctuary garret. Until recently, I spent the first hour or more in meditation and devotion time. Lately, however, I have decided to use the first hours of my day for writing. Much to my surprise, the rest of the day seems to fall into place, including time for meditation later in the day. 

Before I begin writing, however, I take a moment to breathe myself open to the day with a brief morning prayer. My morning prayer is my jumpstart into the day. I offer one of my own or I choose a favorite. 

Dear God,
I give this day to You.
May my mind stay centered on the things of spirit.
May I not be tempted to stray from love.
As I begin this day, I open to receive You.
Please enter where you already abide.
May my mind and heart be pure and true, and may I not deviate     from the things of goodness. 
May I see the love and innocence in all humankind, behind the masks we all wear and the illusions of this worldly plane.
I surrender to You my doings of this day. 
I ask only that they serve You and the healing of the world.
May I bring Your love and goodness with me, to give unto others wherever I go.
Make me the person You would have me be.
Direct my footsteps and show me what You would have me do. 
Make the world a safer, more beautiful place.
Bless all your creatures.
Heal us all and use me, dear Lord, that I might know the joy of being used by You.
Amen.
                                           Marianne Williamson

May I live this day

Compassionate of heart,
Clear in word,
Gracious in awareness,
Courageous in thought,
Generous in love.

May I have the courage today
To live the life that I would love,
To postpone my dream no longer
But do at last what I came here for
And waste my heart on fear no more. 

                                              John O'Donohue

Beloved Friend, I open myself to be of service. Please help me be your arms and willingly hold those who need a healing touch. Open my eyes that I may truly see what you ask of me today. Open my ears that I may truly hear and respond to the cries of joy and sorrow from your children. May the words of my mouth be the meditations of your heart and may I sow peace wherever I go. Amen.
                                             Unknown

No matter what else happens in the day, what direction I am bidden or what new choices are presented, I have had this quiet moment of connection with the Divine. 

An Invitation
How do you start your day? What prayer, formal or informal, do you offer as you start a new day? I would love to know.





  

A Summer Prayer by Joyce Rupp: Tuesday's Post

What a wonderful summer we are having, and I hope that is the case for you, too. Are you a summer person who looks forward to this time of year most of the rest of the year? I have always declared myself to be a winter person, but this year I am enjoying each day, even the wildly humid ones, more than in the past. Perhaps that has to do with my age and the desire to savor each day, no matter what.

All of a sudden it will be August and then September and on it goes, so this week, mid-July already, seems like a good time to take a deep breath, a pause, and to be present to this summer. 

How would you describe this summer of your life? Are you doing what you intended to do? What's on your summer list? Where is this summer leading you?

One of my seasonal spiritual guides is The Circle of Life, The Heart's Journey Through the Seasons by Joyce Rupp and Macrina Wiederkehr. Each season I turn to this book for a way to encounter the days in a deeper way, a way that aligns my inner spirit with the outward changes I see as I walk and move in the world. 

In that spirit I offer "A Summer Prayer." (pp 119-120) I invite you to read through this prayer, perhaps more than once. What lines resonate with you the most? What is the state of your summer soul? Where is there ease and absence of winter worries? Where is there growth and transformation, much to your surprise? How is summer inviting you to rest and to heal? Where are you headed this summer and how will you know when you are there?

Let us begin.

                       A Summer Prayer

May you breathe in the beauty of summer with its power of transformation.
May this beauty permeate all that feels un-beautiful in you. 

          May the God of summer give us beauty. 

May you seek and find spaces of repose during these summer months.
May these moments refresh and restore the tired places within you.

          May the God of summer give us rest.

May you be open to times of celebration and recreation that are so much a part of summer.
May you find happiness in these times of play and leisure.

          May the God of summer give us joy.

May your eyes see the wonders of summer's colors.
May these colors delight you and entice you into contemplation and joy.

          May the God of summer give us inner light.

May you feel energy of summer rains penetrating thirsty gardens, golf courses, lawns and farmlands.
May these rains remind you that your inner thirst needs quenching. 
May your inner self be refreshed, restored, and renewed.
         
         May the God of summer give us what we need for healing.

May you savor fresh produce that comes to your table and enjoy the fruits of summer's bounty.

          May the God of summer give us a sense of satisfaction in the works of our hands.

May you find shelter when the stormy skies of summer threaten your safety.

          May the God of summer give us shelter when inner storms threaten our peace of mind and heart.

May you enjoy the unexpected and find surprises of beauty and happiness as you travel the roads on summer vacation.

          May the God of summer lead us to amazing discoveries as we travel the inner roads of our soul as well. 

An Invitation
How did this prayer speak to you? I would love to know. 

Resources
Joyce Rupp http://www.joycerupp.com
Macrina Weiderkehr http://www.macrinawiederkehr.com/about 

The Pause That Refreshes: Thursday's Reflection

Every morning as I climb the stairs to my garret for my meditation time, I pause and look out the windows towards the back yard. My first pause of the day. Thanks to the Head Gardener at our house, the view is one of evolving beauty and joy, and in this brief pause I offer thanks for the gift of another day and for the privilege I have of sharing my life with someone who shares his gifts so abundantly. 

I sit in my comfortable chair and read a chapter in my current devotional book, pausing periodically to reread words that resonate or words that puzzle me or words that just bear repeating. "Generating joy, we enter and offer joy. Generating peace, we enter and offer peace. Generating stillness, we enter and offer equanimity." The Grace in Aging, Awaken As You Grow Older, Kathleen Dowling Singh http://www.kathleendowlingsingh.com

I meditate, intentional pausing, taking deep breaths, finding my own rhythm. I note where my thoughts land, and I attempt to ease them from the space at least for the moment. I sit quietly a few minutes longer, lifting names or concerns or gratitudes in prayer. I open my eyes and take a deep breath, feeling a bit more prepared for the day. 

I move to my desk to check my email, and today Isee the name of a dear friend from another time of my life. We don't communicate often, but there is a heart connection. I pause and hold loving thoughts of her. Soon I will create a pause in the day in which to write to her. 

It is tempting to stay at my desk and begin the day's writing, but instead, I head outside for my morning walk. I know the main purpose of my walk is exercise, but it seems I find many reasons to pause --sometimes in praise of someone's gardening talents or just to appreciate an interesting looking home. Sometimes I pause to send a blessing, if a home looks neglected or if I hear sounds of children in their early morning exuberance. 

One house I pass frequently seems to my judging eyes in need of care, but I often hear through the open windows the sound of someone playing a guitar and singing softly. I pause to check my need to fill in the blanks, to understand and make sense of why this house looks so shabby and uncared for and yet, there is music being made there. All that is asked of me in this present moment is to whisper, "May all be well." 

I continue through my day, writing the next post for this blog, working on a chapter for my book, answering emails, giving feedback to the members of my small group in the online writing class I am taking, perhaps doing some laundry, making a trip to the grocery store, checking in with my Dad, having casual conversations with Bruce as he goes through his own agenda for the day, fixing dinner, and so it goes. I respond to what the day brings, and if I am mindful, I pause now and then. 

In those brief, barely noticeable moments of pause, I become more present. I clear the space. I open my heart. Singh refers to "sublime abiding." I love that term. In the pause I hold everything a bit lighter. 

Last evening after dinner I took a book and went to our sanctuary side garden we call Cotswold. I had thought about returning to my desk in the garret to write, for I had not completed my self-assigned writing assignment, but instead I had paused at the bottom of the stairs. I listened, just listened, and I think I heard the hydrangeas growing at the base of our front steps. I think I heard the sweet statue of the little girl adjust her position just a bit. I heard the moment call to me, "Come sit and be." 

And that's what I did. 

An Invitation
When do you pause? What happens when you do? I would love to know.  

Tuesday's Reflection: The Red Wheelbarrow

Who doesn't remember reading in high school William Carlos William's "The Red Wheelbarrow"? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Red_Wheelbarrow

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white 
chickens

I wonder if this poem written in 1923 is still studied in high school English classes. Maybe its simplicity of language and image aren't viewed as remarkable today as it once was, but I do hope young poets continue to wonder what depends on a red wheelbarrow. 

On the sidewalk in front of our house I see a red wheelbarrow. A child's wheelbarrow.  Slung over the top is a jacket, which is now wet, because it rained for a few minutes this morning. I am sure it belongs to one of the children a few doors away and in the flurry of coming in for baths and bedtime routine it was forgotten. I suspect that is a busy household, scattered with every manner of kid gear. 

Yesterday as I sat at my desk in the afternoon I could hear through my open window a young child crying, an angry cry, a cry of defiance, an expression of "No, I won't." Perhaps that's when the child was carried kicking and screaming back to her house and the wheelbarrow was left behind and poor Mom or poor Dad gave no more thought to it. 

Sometimes, instead of the wheelbarrow, a pink trike is left behind. Or I may find chalk art drawings--a smiling face, a dog, squiggles and swirls. I love this evidence of young life. 

I suppose I could return the wheelbarrow to its home, but I would prefer to see one of those children come to retrieve it. I could smile and wave from our window or if I am outside we might have a little chat. I would like that.

When I was in elementary school, I was afraid of one of our neighbors, George Olson. He had a perfectly groomed corner yard with a white fence around it. Unfortunately, it was not tall enough or solid enough to prevent a softball from landing in his yard by mistake. We kids would be so scared every time we had to hop the fence and retrieve a ball. I don't know for a fact that he would have been upset, but we thought he would be. He was not only tall and imposing looking, but in my mind he also seemed quite old. A figure not to be reckoned with. 

I prefer not to be a "Georgette" on our block, but instead I hope the children on our block feel safe and secure as they run and play and yes, leave red wheelbarrows. That is my wish for all children, even though I know so many face dangers in their own homes, let alone in the world around them. 

Another poem. This one by Mary Oliver, "I Happened To Be Standing" in A Thousand Mornings.    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Oliver

          I don't know where prayers go,
                 or what they do.
          Do cats pray, while they sleep
                 half-asleep in the sun?
          Does the opossum pray as it
                 crosses the street?
           The sunflowers? The old black oak
                 growing older every year?
            I know I can walk through the world,
                 along the shore or under the trees,
            with my mind filled with things
                 of little importance, in full
            self-attendance. A condition I can't really
                 call being alive.
            Is a prayer a gift, or a petition,
                 or does it matter?
            The sunflowers blaze, maybe that's their way.
            Maybe the cats are sound asleep. Maybe not.

            While I was thinking this I happened to be standing
             just outside my door, with my notebook open,
             which is the way I begin every morning.
             Then a wren in the privet began to sing. 

             He was positively drenched in enthusiasm,
             I don't know why. And yet, why not.
             I wouldn't persuade you from whatever you believe
             or whatever you don't. That's your business.
             But I thought, of the wren's singing, what could this be
                   if it isn't prayer?
             So I just listened, my pen in the air.

And I just gazed at the red wheelbarrow. For so much depends on it. 

An Invitation
What do you see as you look out your front window? Or what do you hear as you stand in your doorway? What prayer is lifted from you as you look, as you listen? I would love to know. 


                

Tuesday's Reflection: I Love My Life!

I wonder how many times the sentence "I love my life," has bounced into my head, flowed through my heart, and sprung from my lips? Many, many times, and with good reason, for I have such a wonderful life, full of love and laughter and life-giving relationships and purpose. 

What interests me is when this sentence, "I love my life," is present. I don't necessarily have to be thinking consciously about all the good things in my life, but may be driving to the grocery store or folding towels or stirring the soup. I may be walking up the stairs to my garret office for an hour or two of writing time or plugging in my iPhone for recharging, and I will have to stop and take a deep breath, for I am so overwhelmed by what I am feeling in that moment. 

Yes, there are times of conscious reflection--when I meditate and then write in my journal or when I pray and address the state of my heart and the needs of those I love, known and unknown, when it doesn't surprise me to have that thought--one of intense gratitude-- but how do I account for all the other times when I am sure I must be glowing? I love my life. This feeling seems to be arising in my life even more frequently these days.

Last week I attended a training session at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts called Art Adventure, in order to volunteer at our grandson's school. I will be a Picture Person and help young people learn to "see" and to discover how art can bring joy and understanding into their lives. As I left the museum, such an amazing place, I could feel that familiar feeling of warmth envelop me. I love my life. The next day driving home from a quick trip to the grocery store I saw three yards completely covered in golden, end of the rainbow, pot of gold, leaves, and I almost had to pull over for the uncontrollable joy I felt.

What is even more amazing to me is that sometimes that sentence rushes over me when I am not as much in love with my life. When I was in the hospital after surgery for my broken ankle last March, I had a lovely young student nurse whose energy and open-heartedness lifted my spirits. I was in good hands and so would be everyone in her care. I may not have loved this new fact in my life, life with a broken ankle, but this new challenge was in the context of a life I love. 

"I love my life" is a form of prayer. A thank you. Sometimes, it is also an expression of hope, a way of opening to support and strength. I recall driving from Ohio to Minnesota early in December many years ago. My mother had been admitted to a hospice recently because she was dying from colon cancer. I had been back and forth many times in the recent months and only months before had had surgery myself for uterine cancer. I spent part of the time in the car composing her eulogy, crying as I did so.  As I approached the Chicago area and the challenge of driving through the city, I told myself to buck up and give my total attention to the road and the cars around me. I couldn't find a public radio station, but all of a sudden I heard Bing Crosby singing "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas," and then, amazingly, every version of White Christmas was played--the Chipmunks, Glen Campbell, the Jackson Five, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and many others. I smiled and sang and laughed and yes, said to myself, "I love my life." I felt stronger, better able to cope with what was ahead, and more whole, and as if a piece of healing had spread over me. 

What I am beginning to learn is that when I am fully present to my life, fully awake and not in the past or the future, but just the present, my response is one of awe and almost ecstasy. I am in love with my life and am open to receive whatever is in that life. 

An Invitation
Do you love you life? When are you most aware of being in love? What are you doing in your life right now to open to the love in your life? I would love to know. 

           

Thursday's Reflection: Ending the Day

Putting the House to Bed

My mother often said as she got older it took her longer and longer to get ready for bed. She had lovely skin and took good care of it, but that caretaking involved more and more products and steps with each year. She followed her end of the day routine faithfully, however, and she looked younger than her years, which was important to her. 

My father, who is 91, reads two pages of Luther's Catechism http://bookofconcord.org/lc-1-intro.php every night. Recently, he has started reading them out loud to himself. I have no idea how many times he has completed the book--how pleased Martin Luther would be--but he says he learns and absorbs something new each time. 

I like turning on the nightstand lamp before the bedroom is engulfed in darkness, but I delay lowering the blinds till just before going to bed. Winter nights I get into pajamas and robe and slippers soon after supper, preparing myself for an evening of cozy reading or watching television. Then when sleeps begins to overcome me, I am ready for bed. I may read a bit more in bed, but more often these days once I am in bed I close my eyes and say my final prayers of the day.

What signals your end of the day? Do you have a routine that leads you to bedtime and a night's rest? Are there tasks that are part of bringing the day to its conclusion? What brings you comfort at the end of the day? 

Benjamin Franklin started his day by asking himself, "What good shall I do this day?" and ended it with the follow-up question, "What good have I done today?" 

Just imagine what could happen in our world if we each held those two questions within our hearts and acted upon them each day? Joyce Rupp http://www.joycerupp.com in her book The Cup of Our Life, A Guide for Spiritual Growth suggests we "wrap the day with the ribbon of prayer," using the following questions as a guide:
       1. How open or aware was I to the presence of God in my 
           day?
       2. What kind of nourishment did I receive?
           What kind of nourishment did I give?
       3. Does anything need to be emptied out in order for me to be
           at peace tonight?
       4. For what do I thank God as I prepare to enter into sleep?
                                                                  pages 17-18

The theological term for looking back over the day is called "examen," which is identifiable with an examination, but without the academic context. Richard J. Foster in his classic Prayer, Finding the Heart's True Home, http://richardjfoster.com/books/ says an examen is an "accurate assessment of the true situation." (p, 27) 

One of the values of developing the practice of examen is to become more aware, more awake as we move through our days from the beginning to the end when our head hits the pillow. Along with noticing the extraordinary in the ordinary, knowing that the examen part of the day is approaching, we are encouraged to remember, to hold onto what has touched us during the day. The process and gift of remembering the present is a valuable practice as we get older and tend to focus more on the past. 

Do we notice the flock of geese overhead? Do we enjoy the young child in the grocery cart ahead of us who tries to get our attention? How present are we to the neighbor on our sidewalk as we unload our groceries? What does the air feel like as we bring in the mail?  Do the leaves appear less green and more gold and red today? 

Who needs our touch today? Our voice? Our thoughts and prayers? 

Foster points out that using the examen, and there are many forms with varying questions to use in your private examination, http://www.ignatianspirituality.com/ignatian-prayer/the-examen/ is a way to go deeper within to your true self, using the outward experiences of the day. That may sound very self-absorbed, but Foster says, "No, it is not a journey into ourselves that we are undertaking but a journey through ourselves so that we can emerge from the deepest level of the self into God. As Saint John Chrysostom notes, 'Find the door of your heart, you will discover it is the door of the kingdom of God.'" (p. 32) 

Here's what Thich Nhat Hanh http://plumvillage.org/about/thich-nhat-hanh/ says in Present Moment, Wonderful Mment, Mindfulness Verses for Daily Living, "We can begin practice beginning anew at any moment of our lives…When we look deeply, we see that beginning anew is possible at any time of our daily lives, at any age." (p. 110)

He opens his meditation on ending the day this way:
          
          The day is ending,
          our life is one day shorter.
          Let us look carefully
          at what we have done.
          Let us practice diligently,
          putting our whole heart into the path of meditation.
          Let us live deeply each moment in freedom,
          so time does not slip away meaninglessly. 

One of my favorite end of the day prayers is from Illuminata, A Return to Prayer by Marianne Williamson: http://www.marianne.com
     
         Dear God,,
         I surrender to You the day now over.
         May only the love remain.
         Take all else into the fire of Your transformative power.
         Release me, release others from any effects of my
              wrongmindedness or wrongdoing.
         Dear God,
         Return me to Your light.
         As I now give to You who I am, what I did, who I loved, 
               who I failed to love, please make all things right.
         Take all things.
         May I continue to grow in Your light and love.
         Tomorrow my I be better.
         Amen. 

My post last Thursday, "Beginning the Day", offered possibilities for starting the day with a practice of prayer. May I suggest doing the same at the end of the day, creating spiritual bookends for your day. 


An Invitation
What is your night time settling in routine? Does it include a looking back, a letting go, and a moving forward? I would love to know.